


The Right, the Wrong, and All the Trials in Between

by binaryblush



Category: EXO (Band), GOT7, NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, And Then Some, High School, M/M, NCT is still the main group here though, also there are like a dozen groups in this fic but i only tagged some, super cliche American high school with all the fitting stereotypes, this was supposed to be a crack fic but idk anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:43:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binaryblush/pseuds/binaryblush
Summary: -Taeyong transfers high schools in the middle of the year. It’s kind of a big mistake.-





	The Right, the Wrong, and All the Trials in Between

    Taeyong was very late. 

    A broken vase, the escaping school bus, the confusing hallways—it had gone wrong in so many places. 

    At least he had woken up on time. From there he accidently knocked over one of the flower vases just recently removed from the moving box, and his mother had lamented over the occurrence for a solid 15 minutes. Taeyong was stuck to the spot while she bemoaned about the fragility of highly-prized pottery. Her collection was clearly more important than Taeyong’s first day at the new school.

    So, he missed the bus. The clunky yellow vehicle rolled down the street while Taeyong was choking on the waffle he so desperately tried to shove down his throat. Whoever said breakfast was the most important meal of the day was clearly misguided. It had nearly killed him today. The subsequent sip of orange juice also failed spectacularly, so Taeyong spent another five minutes changing his shirt amidst a haze of mild indigestion and trauma. 

    Once his bag was packed and the shattered ceramic bits swept up and disposed of, his older sister drove him to school. 

    “Maybe we can just go to your workplace instead,” Taeyong suggested as they rolled past other cars on the freeway.

    “Maybe you can shut up,” she hummed back. 

    Okay. 

    The second Taeyong stepped into the school building, he knew he was fucked. Everyone else was already in their classes, and the  _ Dayton High School _ map he clutched in his hands wasn’t helping him get any closer to enlightenment. All the hallways looked the same, with their off-white color walls and the array of red bulletin boards and posters tacked onto them. The same set of wine-colored lockers greeted Taeyong from the left and right, along with the pale floor speckled with a range of darker shades. 

    The email he received a few days back told him to go to the administration's office first so they could introduce him to his new classes and the school campus. Squinting at the poor quality map image, Taeyong finally concluded that he needed to turn left. He passed a few classes, the echo of his footsteps fracturing the silence. 

    Sometimes Taeyong peered into the glass windows on the sides of each classroom door to see what went on inside. There wasn’t much. Everything seemed familiar—teachers in front, students half-awake, the projector displaying something like quadratics problems or a presentation on Marxism.  

    A bang came from the other end of the hallway, followed by loud footsteps, a high-pitched giggle, and fast whispers. 

    Taeyong jerked his head to see. One guy, one girl, pressed up against a wall, behind the end of the row of lockers. Some dude and his girlfriend, no doubt. They were feeling each other up, and the girl was making a lot of breathy sounds. Taeyong averted his eyes to the floor. 

    The two paid no attention to him as he lugged himself forward. He spared a quick glance. All Taeyong could see was the back of the guy’s head, with hair a chestnut brown, and half of the girl’s face, which was framed with gentle, sloping dark brown waves. She was quite tall and slim, and carried a daintily curved face with ivory skin. Pretty, and highly accessorized as well, her earrings occasionally clinked against the wall she was backed up against. 

    They were practically dry-humping each other at this point. Taeyong glanced to his left and to his pleasant surprise read the sign labelled  _ Office _ on the door at the end of the corridor. Time to speed on out of there. He left the two of them and marched towards the walnut brown door, fingers tugging onto the cold steel handle.

    The office smelt pleasantly of vanilla and jasmine. A petite, older woman sat typing with her eyes riveting back and forth at the computer screen. As Taeyong strode toward the front desk, a pair of thick-rimmed glasses popped up in front of him.

    “Hi, you must be Taeyong.” A young-looking guy with slicked-over black hair and smiling, crescent-shaped eyes held out his hand. “I’m Jeno—the dude they sent to help introduce you to the campus this morning.”

    Absentmindedly, Taeyong took Jeno’s hand and shook it.

    “Hi,” Taeyong greeted back. “Sorry I’m late. I just... got lost.” 

    Jeno’s eyes crinkled up even more, if that was possible. “Don’t worry about it. It’s kind of a big school, but you’ll get used to it eventually.” 

    The kid had his earbuds hanging out the top of his gray button down shirt with the rest of the wires underneath, connected to the phone in his pocket. Besides the slight bit of styling gel, Taeyong spotted some faint turquoise streaks in Jeno’s jet black hair too. 

    “Anyways, uh, I guess you already got your schedule. They gave me a copy of it too, just so I could help out. Since you’ve got an open period for 1st, you don’t really have to worry about being late. We’ll just spend the hour going around campus and catching you up on things. Then you can actually head to class.” Jeno explained.

    “So...you have an open first period too?” Taeyong asked. 

    Jeno nodded. “It’s not really a common thing—only a few people have opens first due to like, weird scheduling stuff. We don’t technically have to be at school until 9, but if you can’t get another ride, then you have to take the bus and get here at 8. It’s stupid, I know.” 

    Jeno checked his watch, which read 8:15. “I guess we should get started now.” 

    “Have fun, boys,” feebly interjected the old secretary, whose name stand read  _ Mrs. Nelly _ at the desk.

    Taeyong followed Jeno outside of the office and into the empty corridor. The couple from earlier was still on the other end, only now they were quietly talking while the girl fumbled around in her locker and reapplied her lipstick. 

    The guy was leaning next to her, against the other lockers, with his hands in his pockets. Taeyong could see his face clearly now, and it felt vaguely like a punch in the face. For starters, this guy was incredibly handsome, with dark-brown eyes set in monolids, looking up to meet Taeyong’s gaze. He was dressed in a linen, light blue button down, khaki cuffed pants, and oxfords. It struck Taeyong as slightly formal for a high school setting, but he shrugged the thought off—the guy looked damn good, and why would he question that? 

    Taeyong tore away from the concentrated stare, feeling a hint of blush creeping up his neck. The guy also looked away, rather expressionless, and went back to talking to his girlfriend. 

    Jeno rolled his eyes after moving past them. 

    “Just keep walking,” he whispered to Taeyong. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know when we’re out of earshot.”

    Taeyong nodded, slightly puzzled. 

    The two made their way into the Social Studies sector of the school, footsteps prodding lightly against the cold tile.  

    “So does everyone at this school look like they just stepped out of a Vogue photoshoot, or...?” Taeyong asked.

    Jeno chuckled, eyes folding up into crescents again. 

    “There are a few that I’d classify as teen royalty,” he admitted. “And those two are at the very center of it.”

    They stopped in front of a door labeled 403. 

    “United States History is this one, right here. That’s your next period.” Jeno pointed towards the classroom.

    Taeyong poked his head to look through the glass window for a brief second. The teacher, a young, redheaded lady, excitedly lectured over some map displayed by the projector.

    Jeno moved past the room and continued walking straight, Taeyong following right behind.

    “Basically, those two are Dayton’s Prince William and Kate,” Jeno said, picking up where they left off. “Better looking though. Waay better.

    “First off, you got Jaehyun Jung. His parents practically own the Southern Mall, that big one right at the crossing of Elm and Valley Street. Yeah, the one that’s got Gucci and Jimmy Choo and shit. So I guess now you know why he dresses like his father owns a yacht and they go golfing every Tuesday.”

    Taeyong opened his mouth.

    “Exactly,” Jeno nodded. “Because his father owns a yacht and they go golfing every Tuesday.”

    Cue closed mouth.

    “But obviously just having the money isn’t gonna get you the #1 spot. This dude’s got everything else, too. The looks, the smarts, the athletics. Yeah, he’s also on Dayton’s swim team, which isn’t as high on the list as football, but it’s pretty up there. Usually, if you aren’t his friend, you’re secretly envying him on the side or you’re part of his fanclub.”

    “His  _ fanclub? _ ” Taeyong’s eyebrow shot up into full-wrinkle mode.

    Jeno laughed. “Yeah, some of the girls at this school have this underground organization  _ thing _ where they talk about him and trade pictures of him. Except it’s not really ‘underground’ because everyone knows about it. And it’s just creepy as fuck. Some of the other guys got them too.”

    This school was already way out of Taeyong’s caliber.

    Taeyong side-eyed him. “So where are you in this, uh, spectrum? Do you, like, admire him at all, like everyone else seems to do?”

    “Honestly, I’m right in the middle of not caring,” Jeno answered. “There’s a small group of us that don’t really give a shit.”

    Alright. Taeyong could respect that. But he could also see why Jaehyun was so popular. Just one look from that dude was enough to make Taeyong feel a little something. But it seemed pretty dumb, so Taeyong tried to swallow the thought down.

     He didn’t realize where they were headed to until Jeno pushed through a huge set of navy blue doors. 

    “The cafeteria,” Jeno introduced, hand gesturing toward the several rows of depressingly gray lunch tables and benches, as well as the kitchen at the end of the massive space.

    They sat down at the closest table. 

    “It all boils down, in this room,” Jeno continued to explain. “You got everyone, from the top, all the way to the bottom, mushed together right here.”

    So there was a social hierarchy, Taeyong realized, and solemnly nodded. His previous school had one as well, but it was crumbling on the brink of existence. Most students just sat with whomever they wanted to. Nothing seemed to call out to the extreme. Once in awhile the cheerleaders made a show of being in their own exclusive clique, but most people usually just ignored them. 

    “You got your Jocks, sitting with the Cheerleaders over there, “ Jeno pointed to the far-right corner, “Then you got the Richies—“

    “Richies?”

    “Prep kids. Rich kids,” Jeno clarified. Taeyong nodded.

    “They sit there.” He pointed. “Next you got your ASB, which as you know, is the Associated Student Body, but here they’re more generally known as the Aggravated Salt Babies. They eat lunch in a different room.”

    Taeyong cracked a grin. “Aggravated Salt Bab...?” His voice trailed off in confusion.

    “They’re always irritated about something. Always arguing, always salty. You think our school council would be better than this but, nope. Sometimes you can hear them screaming from the ASB room down the hall. That’s where they eat, discuss, and shout about school budgeting. But hey,” Jeno shrugged. “Sometimes they pull off some amazing activities for this school.”

    Taeyong nodded.

    “Anyways, after them you got the Dance Drones—our dance team—and next to them the resident rock Band. Then the Drifters in that corner—“

    “Drifters?”

    “Guys that just hop around. They’re not in any particular group, but they’re usually well-received by almost everyone.” 

    “Got it.”

    Jeno kept going down the line of tables. “Then there’s the Burnouts—or the druggies, whatever you wanna call ‘em—and after them the Newsies and the Yearlies, which you should never mix up because they actually want to kill each other—”

    “Whoa, what?”

    Jeno shrugged. “Newspaper kids and yearbooks kids have always had this beef. I dunno. Just make sure you don’t get between them, because you don’t want bad press from either side. Printing regulations here suck.”

    “Alright.” Taeyong’s mind was a scrambled mess at this point.

    “Next you got your Drama Drones there, and then the so-called Hipsters there. That’s where I sit.” Jeno pointed at the first table on the left side of the cafeteria. “That’s where they split us in half. You got the higher ups on the right, and the rest of us lined up on the left.” 

    Taeyong raised a brow. “So that’s how they define you? A... hipster?”

    Jeno shrugged. “If I get to listen to my music in peace, then so be it. I don’t really care. The labels here don’t really bother me here, but I guess I’ve got an okay spot to begin with, so I don’t have much to complain about.”

    “Oh, okay, cool.” Taeyong heaved out a breath, suddenly assessing the whole lunch situation and realizing he needed to do something about it  _ fast _ , or else he’d end up eating his plastic-wrapped pizza slices in some bathroom stall. “So, uh, by any chance, would it bother you at all if I joined you at your table today? I mean, usually I’d just pick a seat, but I don’t know where I would...” Taeyong trailed off with a meek laugh.

    “Funny, I was just about to ask you about that. But don’t worry—we’ll take you in for a couple of weeks,” Jeno answered with another one of his eye-smiles. “You kinda already fit our look, anyways,” he said, poking at Taeyong’s black-rimmed glasses.

    Taeyong breathed a sigh of relief.

    “We can talk about music styles and other stuff later,” Jeno said with a grin.

    “Anyways, to continue this very crucial briefing,” he went on, “After us, you got the Righteous Nerds. Well, that naming’s kind of tricky. If you’re higher than them, you call them the Righteous Nerds. If not, they’re known as the Intellects.”

    “What happens if you switch the names around?” Taeyong raised a brow.

    “Various things. Sometimes it’s a wedgie. Then they throw you in the dumpster. Or sometimes they egg your car, if you’ve got one—I think that happened to someone last year.”

    “Who’s they?”

    “Various people. Usually it happens so fast or in secret that you can’t tell. Although usually it’s a Jock. Also, the treatment, or rather, punishment, applies to any sort of violator of the...system, for lack of a better word.” 

    “Huh.” Well, that was another thing to worry about then.

    “Yup. So be careful. Think before you act and all that jazz. Anyways...where was I? Oh, right. Following the Nerds, there’s the Band Babies—now that’s a big group—then the Choir Geeks behind them—also pretty big—and following them, the actual Geeks. Next, there’s the isolated Goths at that second to last table, and finally this one,” Jeno patted the bench they were sitting on, “for all the Misfits.”

    Taeyong took a moment to soak it all in. So many facts in such a short amount of time, and classes hadn’t even started yet. How was he supposed to be learning about molecules and grammar and shit when there was a whole societal ladder he had to learn to hang onto first?

    “Okay,” he said, pausing. “Okay. So...jocks, geeks, misfits, potential maiming, etcetera etcetera. Where does that girl we saw earlier fit in?”

    “Oh right. I forgot about her,” Jeno snapped his fingers. 

    “Jaehyun’s Juliet or whatever. Seolhyun Kim. Your typical doll-faced Cheerleader. They’ve been dating for a solid three months, which is pretty amazing considering that the two used to get around a lot before. Playboy and playgirl decided to become the ultimate power couple. Jaehyun’s fanclub took a one week hiatus when the news first broke out.”

    Jeno decided to stand up. “Come on. Let's go see your other classes.” 

    Taeyong followed close behind, exiting the cafeteria and heading towards the English and foreign language section of the school. The two stopped at numerous spots along the way, so Jeno could introduce Taeyong to other campus hotspots like the Library Media Center, Theater, and Gym. 

    As they moved past Taeyong’s English class and headed towards the science sector, a sudden surge of footsteps came within earshot, followed by a few crashes that seemed to result from banging into the lockers. Rowdy laughter mixed in.

    Taeyong saw Jeno’s shoulder visibly heave up and then go back down as he sighed. 

    “Brace yourself for incoming a-holes from Dayton’s oh-so-beloved football team. Looks like they’re ditching classes again.” Jeno said, rolling his eyes. 

    Five seconds later three tall, rather ripped dudes came sprawling down the hallway, snickering and shoving each other into the lockers. Jeno kept on strolling towards them, although Taeyong noticed that he had started taking quicker strides, and did the same to keep up pace. 

    “You two, yeah, the hippies—know a place where I can knock some sense into this dumbass’ brain?” The guy asking the question was headlocking his friend with a shit-eating grin on his face. There was sweat coming from under his auburn hair and his jacked biceps were practically glistening at this point.  

    Taeyong had a strong urge to say  _ up your ass _ , (though it didn’t really make sense, but it was the only lame thing he could muster up) and he was pretty sure Jeno was thinking the same thing, but he kept his mouth shut.

    The guy being wrestled was practically wheezing at this point. “Chanyeol, put me down you motherfu-” He let out a whoosh of air as the bigger dude, Chanyeol, let go of his grip. 

    “I told you, I’ll always be stronger.” Chanyeol even flexed his arm at this point, and Taeyong tried hard not to gag. “Why even bother trying, Lucas, you sad, sad— Ow!”

    And they went off tumbling again, with their other tall friend chuckling behind them. Taeyong followed Jeno, going past the occupied jocks, before taking a sharp turn towards his science classroom. It wasn’t long before the hallways were quiet again

    “Well, they already think you’re one of us now,” Jeno said with a hint of a smile. “At least the means you’re blending in pretty well? If that makes you feel any better.” 

    Taeyong gave a small chuckle. “I guess so.”

    “Here’s a small, kinda obvious tip: ignore them. Don’t waste your time talking to those egotistical idiots,” Jeno mentioned, before gesturing towards Taeyong’s science classroom.

    “Do not engage with sporty, narcissistic dudes — check.” Taeyong made a mental note. 

    Jeno grinned. “Right on. By the way, what grade are you in?”

    “Junior,” Taeyong answered. “You?”

    “Freshman.” Jeno responded, with a sort of what-can-you-do-about-it look. 

    Taeyong’s eyes widened. “I would’ve guessed at least a sophomore.” Jeno talked and looked older. Maybe it was just the glasses.

    “Nah. I’ve still got three and half years in this dump. You’re lucky—at least you’ll be out in under two.” Jeno said, staring wistfully at the ceiling.

    “That’s still a lot,” Taeyong grunted, because it was pretty true. “But, I mean, things will be fine. At least I hope.” Taeyong said, attempting to sound somewhat reassuring.

    Jeno laughed. “That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s been working so far—I think.” He brought his gaze back down to Taeyong’s. “Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

    “Right after you.”

    They continued their walk through the school. Inside, Taeyong felt something bubbling in his chest. It had been less than an hour, and things already seemed to be spiraling out of control. He swallowed.  _ Stay focused, man. _ It worked for about a second, and then suddenly Taeyong remembered Jaehyun’s eyes in the hallway before. 

    Nope. Add that to the list of things gone wrong. First the broken vase, then the missed bus, then the confusing hallways, and now, damn it! Some rich kid with a godly face and a supermodel girlfriend at the center of some weird-ass teenage hierarchy.

    Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to be funny but all my jokes are left in the part of my soul that withered away in 3rd grade


End file.
